Ten Sides of Royai
by CEA
Summary: The backstory of Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye, told through a series of ten short stories. Part 4: Prologue to a Fateful Meeting.
1. The One Where Riza Cross Stitches

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Ten Sides of Royai  
**1. The One Where Riza Cross-Stitches  
By **CEA  
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"What are you doing?"

It certainly wasn't the most eloquent statement Colonel Roy Mustang had ever made; however, it was Monday, and early in the morning, and his hair was falling tiredly in his eyes and he had decided to do anything he could, at that moment, to avoid more paperwork. So he had looked up for inspiration to that objective, and had noticed his First Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye, sans usual mounds of paperwork (he suspected, feeling a faint but palpable twinge of annoyance, that she had come in on the weekend to finish it) and sitting at her desk with a wooden wheel in one hand and a black thread and needle in the other. Encased in the middle of the wheel was a simple white cloth, square-shaped though falling inelegantly over the back of the wheel. She appeared to be concentrating rather harder than usual, and this odd picture of her piqued his curiosity.

Her red eyes flickered up to meet his momentarily before she turned back to her work. "Cross-stitching."

He was floored. He could faintly recall his mother doing the very same thing we he was little, cross-stitching patterns onto various fabrics and articles of clothing, or pictures to hang on the wall. But it seemed so... domestic, especially for some one like First Lieutenant Hawkeye, when half of the time he knew his men had to remind themselves that she was, in fact, a girl. "Why?" he asked bluntly, continuing to be utterly tactless.

She looked at him again, and he could see a spark of annoyance in her eyes. "_Why_, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Why are you cross-stitching?"

"Is there something wrong with what I am doing, Colonel?"

He shrugged, smirking, and folded his gloved hands neatly under his chin. "It doesn't seem like you, is all."

She set down the wheel, looking distinctly angry now. The smug look fell off of his face. "And I suppose," she stated loudly, so that the rest of his subordinates stopped what they were doing and glanced up in uncertainty, "that all of you assume that I spend my free time shooting harmless birds out of my window and tuning up my car?"

Simultaneously, every male in the room turned various shades of red. Though the car image hadn't registered until now, the bird one certainly had, or a variation of it. Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you making it for some one specific?" Fuery asked suddenly, hoping that the change of subject would distract her.

Her eyes shifted to his though her face did not. Then she nodded shortly, before turning back to her work.

Roy was intrigued, and though he would never admit it, a little jealous.

"Who?"

She didn't bother to look at him, this time. "Why do you want to know, sir?"

He couldn't think of a good response, so he opted for a bad one. "Because I am your superior, and it is my duty to know."

She gave him a long-suffering look. "It is your duty to know whom we are making gifts for, sir?"

"Yes," he said irritably, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

Riza glared at him, before standing. "I am going to go make more coffee," she declared. He opened his mouth to protest and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "And you," she said vehemently, "are going to finish your paperwork, sir." She then put her gun in her shoulder holster, and left, taking the wheel with her.

He felt extremely annoyed by the whole occurrence, and sat there fuming for more than a few seconds. Havoc glanced over at Fuery and wiggled his eyebrows, motioning with his head at the Colonel. Fuery's eyes went wide in surprise, and he turned to see Falman already grinning at the exchange. Falman and Havoc shared a knowing look, and Fuery felt horrified at his inability to leave the room before one of them asked what he was certain-

"Why so curious about who Lieutenant Hawkeye is making a present for, sir?" Falman asked suggestively.

"Whom," the Colonel corrected icily, ignoring them and turning quickly to his paperwork.

Falman and Havoc shared that look again. "So you're not, you know, jealous or anything? The great Colonel Mustang-"

"Who will demote you both if you don't shut up," the handsome Colonel snapped. "Back to work." He looked pointedly down at the formerly hated paperwork, dedicatedly signing the top one with a flourish.

Havoc grinned. He'd lost too many women to the currently annoyed self-dubbed _ladies' man _to not want to take full advantage of this. "Bet you," he commented, turning fully to Fuery and Falman and ignoring the Colonel, "that our little Hawkeye's finally found herself a _real_ man."

"He'd have to be handsome," Falman agreed. "Really intelligent, too, and in the Military of course."

"A Brigadier General, or some equally high rank."

"Probably loaded, a perfect gentleman who can handle her temper."

"And he does all of his paperwork on time-"

"-with a devastatingly perfect smile."

"_WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP!_"

Colonel Mustang was standing now, with both of his hands on his desk. He looked about ready to really lay into them when the door opened, and Riza reappeared, with two mugs of coffee in her hands, Black Hayate at her feet per usual. She glanced between her Colonel and the three staring at her with worryingly knowing looks on their faces a few times before asking, quizzically, "What's going on here?"

Fuery placed his head in his hands and moaned unhappily while Falman and Havoc grinned shamelessly; Roy stood up and straightened his coat hurriedly, adopting his one-of-a-kind smile. "Nothing, Lieutenant," he said smoothly.

The blonde glanced between them one more time before shaking her head and approaching Roy's desk, setting one blue coffee mug full of tan-colored liquid in front of him.

He smiled ruefully. "Thank you."

Riza nodded, walking over to her own desk and sitting down, setting her own brown mug of deep, black liquid in front of her and pulling the much-discussed wheel out from inside her jacket to continue with her work. "You need to have those finished by 1700 hours," she added before ignoring him entirely.

Several hours passed, during which Riza worked calmly and Colonel Mustang brooded and angrily signed his signature at the bottom of document after document, occasionally glancing up to glare at her. What angered him most was that not once did she return his gaze; those perfect red eyes remained focused on her work, work she was doing for a nameless Somebody.

A Somebody who was not him.

Roy Mustang brooded.

Shortly before the inevitable 1700 hours, the door flew open with a bang. There stood Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, complete with happy eyes and hearts around his face.

"Roy!" he called, striding up to his desk with that incessant smile upon his face, "guess what!"

Mustang's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "What, Hughes?"

"SATURDAY IS ELYSIA'S BIRTHDAY!" cried the tall man, his entire frame glowing in happiness. "And you are all invited! Here are the invitations. They were made out of perfect copies of perfect pictures of my perfect daughter! ISN'T SHE WONDERFUL!"

Roy resisted strangling the man as roughly a dozen invitations were shoved under his nose and then dropped unceremoniously on top of his newly-finished paperwork. "All of you are welcome," Hughes continued, turning to face the entire room, "and all of you should bring dates! The more the merrier, and all of you need good wives as is! (Make sure they bring presents!)"

Several of the men, most notably Havoc, had turned interesting colours at the mention of wives. Ignoring this, Hughes caught site of Hawkeye looking at him with the very faintest of smiles on her face.

"Riza!" he exclaimed, stepping over to her in two quick strides and grinning down at her. "Working hard on that present, I see."

"It's trickier than I thought it would be," she said quietly, as the other men in the room stared at her and each other in shock, "but my mother always made them for small children in my time, and I thought it would be nice to continue the tradition."

Hughes leaned over her, grinned, and lifted the wheel in the air, proudly displaying it to Mustang, Havoc, Falman, and Fuery. It was a near-finished and slightly choppy but well-done picture of Elysia and her parents, with the girl's name spelled out in curvaceous letters on top. "Could any of you have suspected our Lieutenant Hawkeye to have such wonderful talents?" he asked happily. He handed it back to her; she was blushing, Roy noticed. "It will proudly display it my daughters' room come Saturday," he promised. "Thank you, Riza."

"Of course, sir."

Maes grinned all at them, and with a last, "8 o'clock Saturday, gentlemen! I expect to see you there with your dates! And you better have good gifts for my daughter!" he departed with a bang.

There was quiet in the room for a whole of 10 seconds.

"So," Roy said tentatively, his voice belying his nervousness, "you were making that picture for Elysia, not-"

"Not for some nameless Whomever?" Riza interrupted, piercing him with a glare. "No, sir. Not that it's any of your business."

They stared at one another for some quiet moments, and her gaze softened into something else before she turned to look at the stack next to him. "Those papers are due in 34 seconds, Colonel."

He made an ungraceful noise and roughly shoved Hughes' invitations off of the stack. "Then I suggest, Lieutenant," he commented, picking them up and holding them in front of him, "that you run."

Their eyes met again, and she smiled and shook her head; standing, so took them gently in her small hands. "Yes, sir," she said, disappearing.

Roy gave the other three men a look that clearly said _Say anything and **die.**_

Hawkeye reappeared later, with several reports and more paperwork, as always. And so they worked, and eventually the other three went home: first Havoc, then Fuery and Falman together.

More time passed, and multiple cups of coffee were obtained by Riza as the two left continued to work, Hawkeye supervising and badgering him in turn. Eventually, it became very late, and, standing, stretching, and grinning, he announced that it was time to go home.

She nodded, pushing back from her seat and failing to hide a huge yawn. Roy smiled fondly at that as he pushed his chair in. "Come on," he said quietly, opening the largest, bottom-most drawer of his desk and pulling out a large umbrella, "I'll walk you home."

Riza look at him in surprise, before standing gracefully and shaking her head. "That's unnecessary, sir, I can walk myse-"

"It's raining, Lieutenant," he said pointedly, showing off the umbrella and nodding towards the window. Her amber eyes flickered to see the water pouring loudly from the sky, and wondered that she had missed it before. "And, as is, I have the only umbrella I can see."

That was true, but still... "Sir, I-"

"I am walking you home, Lieutenant. That is an order."

She swallowed and nodded. He opened the door and waited as she pulled a brown leash out of her drawer. Turning, she beckoned Black Hayate to her, and snapped the leash to his collar. Had dogs been able to smile, Roy thought to himself, that dog would have been every time he saw his master. She turned and exited, and he followed. Together, they made their way through the building, and stepped out into the cold night.

As they walked out into the pouring rain, he opened the sunshade and, to her surprise, slid one powerful arm around her waist, to pull her fully under the large, black umbrella. She looked up at him in uncertainty, and he flashed her that famous, cocky grin. "Sorry it isn't bigger," he whispered softly into her ear.

Roy grinned to himself as she blushed fully. "That's quite alright, sir," she responded just as quietly. Black Hayate barked.

They were quiet during the four-block walk to her apartment in a quaint neighborhood. They stopped in front of the shot gate, and she turned to face him. Roy studied the complex. He'd been here many times, to pick her up or to tell her something important. He'd never gone inside. He'd always known that if he'd gone inside, _something -_ he wasn't sure what, but something - would happen.

But now he was standing here, staring at her small apartment, thinking about grabbing her and taking her to the overbearing manor-house he'd grown up in, taking her to the third floor, telling her that he didn't care about any of it anymore, as long as...

He turned back to her, met those red eyes that haunted him with his midnight-black ones, and suddenly felt very, very nervous.

"Colonel-"

"Roy," he countered quietly. "My name is Roy, right now."

Riza suddenly looked as nervous and uncertain as he felt.

"I can't call you that, si-"

"You can all me whatever you wish, Riza," he interrupted. His face softened, and he lifted his gloved right hand to run the back of it down her cheek softly. "Elizabeth," he whispered.

Her eyes went very wide, and she stepped back away from him hurriedly, into the rain. She stood suddenly straight-backed, her eyes blazing but so lost. "We can't be doing this, Colonel Mustang," she said loudly, in her typical military-voice. "I am your subordinate, and-"

"Screw that," he interrupted, looking oddly serious. "I couldn't care less, Riza."

"But I do," she countered, looking very angry now. "I promise to help you make it to the top, Colonel," she explained, "and I plan to do that. And that means," she stressed, "that we can't be involved with each other."

"Come with me to Hughes' stupid party," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back out of the rain. "Please, Riza," he said, all traces of that cocky bastard she knew so well gone.

"I can't, Roy," she said quietly, looking at the ground. "You know we can't."

"I've wanted to ask you for so long," he said softly. She looked at him in surprise. "Since those days in Ishbal when you kept me sane. But you had to make that promise. When I thought you were making that stupid cross-stitch for some-"

"-Stud?" she asked, a trace of a smile on her lips.

He glared at her. "No. Some ugly, fat, bald man with bad teeth-"

She cut him off with laughter this time, and he smiled at her. He slid the umbrella into the crook of his arm and placed his hands on her hips, tugging her closer, and he leaned his forehead against hers. Her eyes slid closed, and she shivered. "Come with me," he asked again. "I'll make it an order if I have to."

Riza gave him a typical _look _at that, and Roy met her eyes. Letting go of her hips, he slowly pulled both gloves off of his hands, before placing them in his pocket. She looked at him questioningly, and then he ran his bare right hand over her cheek again, cupping her chin and stroking the soft flesh on the side of her mouth with his thumb. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Riza bit her lip. "We shouldn't-"

"I know," he said softly. "'But that's not going to stop me from kissing you."

And then he met her warm, open mouth with his own.

Riza felt her knees go weak, and she would have fallen if his arms hadn't been around her. She'd wanted this for so long, and the idea that the one person she truly loved apparently wanted her, too, was making her head spin. Unconsciously, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her closer around him as the umbrella fell, forgotten, to the side.

He pulled away, breathless, resting his forehead against hers again. "Is that a yes?" he panted.

She laughed, and he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. "Yes," she responded, "I'll go with you."

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AN: Well, this is the first of 10 pseudo-drabbles I plan on doing. I'd call them real drabbles if this one wasn't 2800 words long so far, which is a bit long for a drabble, in my opinion. All should fit snugly together but it's not really a story with any plot - aside from, of course, Royai. They should go in chronological order, more or less, except that this one and number 9 (um, so far. Me trying to plan isn't good, but so far number 9 is a continuation of this one) won't be. But yeah, this is my first attempt at Royai - or FMA in general. So I expect lots of wonderful reviews :) 


	2. Ishbal

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**Ten Sides of Royai  
**2. Ishbal  
By **CEA  
**-------------------- 

She was only 18 years old.

She was 18, blonde, and relatively small, surrounded by yelling men, heat, and sand... _so _much sand. It was already in her yellow hair, throughout her blue military-issue uniform, clogging her nostrils and throat. She'd coughed her way through her first day here, and now, on her third, she was beginning to grow weary of the endless turmoil, and the horrifying notion that she might be here for years to come.

If she wasn't killed, that is.

"Sergeant Hawkeye!"

She turned, her gun clutched protectively in her two hands as a much taller man ran up to her. She didn't recognize him, but his bowing to her let her know it didn't matter. "Colonel Grand has requested your presence, sir. Er - ma'am."

Riza frowned, at both his slip and at what he had just said. Why would a Colonel want to speak with her?

"Alright," she replied, sliding her gun into its usual position as she followed the young man past the many tents.

Young man. He was probably older than she was.

The tent they came to was significantly larger than the others, and she felt a stab of annoyance that anyone should be shown deferential treatment in this situation. The man who had escorted her pulled back the flap on the tent, and she nodded and slipped inside, before saluting her superior.

Basque Grand was an intimidating man, at best, and he was the only other person in there. He looked up at her from an oversized desk as she walked into the room, and then he set down a pen and stood up. "At ease, soldier. Let me have a look at you."

Her eyes narrowed in uncertainty as he came to stand a few feet in front of her, looking her up and down. He raised an eyebrow. "Sergeant Riza Hawkeye?"

"Yes, sir."

The man looked her up and down again. "How tall are you?"

"168 centimetres."

"And your weight?"

"54 kg."

He stared at her for a bit. "And how is it, then," he said with a small smile, "that this slight little blonde thing is reputedly my new top sniper?"

Riza looked very confused. "Sir?"

"How many people have you killed with two days on the field, Sergeant?"

"I haven't kept track, sir."

"More than 50?"

"Yes." And their screams still echoed in her head.

He laughed, bitterly. "Do you want to know how long it takes most of my _men _to acquire that number?"

She blinked. "Sir?"

"More than two days, Sergeant Hawkeye. Many more than two."

She was silent. He stared at her for a bit more before he turned back to the desk, shuffling papers for a bit. "Lieutenant!" he barked abruptly. A short man with a pinched face appeared out of nowhere. Riza stared in surprise. "Find Sergeant Hawkeye our best sniper rifles and ammo, and then introduce her to the Captain. He's leaving soon - getting too old for this anymore - and tell him to train her as his replacement."

Riza's mouth would have dropped open if she had been prone to such an open display. "Colonel?"

Basque Grand smirked up at her and stood his full height again, towering over her. "You're the best, Sergeant, or you're going to be. I need a new Sniper Captain, you showed up, and I have enough belief in that shit thing they call fate to see a good match when I have one." He eyed her up and down, and mentally she recoiled at the licentious look in his eyes. "Yes," he murmured, "you'll certainly do well."

She was 18, small, blonde, and, abruptly, five days later, the head of the main force's sniper regime, which consisted of a few dozen people, all of whom were male and all of whom, to her shock, had already heard of her.

"You're that crazy girl who killed like 200 people in two days, right!"

"No way, man, I heard it was like 300."

"No way. Holy fuck."

This was what the Military had to offer?

Their job was simple. They would accompany groups of soldiers who would battle their way in, make it to the top of a strategic position, and shoot until they accomplished their goal, killed everyone, or ran out of ammo. It was almost boring, but the Colonel had had one thing right - as good as she had been before with the army-issue gun and her sharp eyesight, with a sniper rifle and a scope...

Well, 50 in two days wasn't much to talk about, then.

Though she, of course, didn't show it, she was secretly extremely relieved that she had turned out to be so damn good at this. The men on her squad immediately deferred to her because she was so perceptibly better than them, despite, as the Colonel had pointed out so bluntly, being a slight little blonde thing.

Except she couldn't sleep.

It had started the seventh day, when her number had hit high enough that she didn't care to count anymore, after they had pummeled this Ishbalan town into compliance and death and packed up to move to the next, leaving behind a few dozen men to look over the smoking city. The capital of Ishbal was only 200 kilometres away, and she knew that was where they were heading although it had not yet been said. But when she had lain down to sleep that night, she hadn't been able to.

Riza had spent days ignoring the sight of blood, trying to rid her mind of the number of people who had died under her hands - small, white hands stained with more blood than she had ever imagined. She had hummed tunelessly to herself to get rid of the voices screaming, and had stared endlessly at the bleak sand so as to not see the faces of the small children whom she had been ordered to kill so horribly. But, finally, that had not been enough, and when she laid down that night, the dark around her was filled with ghosts and blood, and an endless, piercing screaming.

Riza had never cried. She had been raised by a Colonel mother and the stories of a Brigadier General father, killed a few months before her birth. Her entire family was in the military, and she had grown up with the knowledge that any weakness was bad, especially if you were a girl.

That night, she discovered that she was, in fact, able to cry.

--------------------

A year passed. She turned 19, and the alchemists came.

"Sergeant!"

Riza turned to intercept a subordinate. "The Colonel wants you, now."

She sighed, clicking the safety on her gun, and nodded. She made her way swiftly through the campsite to the tent she had come to know so well during her stay as Head Sniper.

Colonel Grand had taken to calling upon her as often as he could think up an excuse, and her frequent meetings with him were becoming more and more licentious.

She slipped through the tent opening as she had become accustomed to doing, and waited silently for the Colonel to notice her. It was a game he had taken to playing, to see how long he could ignore her before her presence affected him too much. She supposed he liked to think he was making her squirm. If he was, it wasn't for the reasons he was hoping for.

Eventually, he looked up, and met her red eyes with his. Those red eyes of hers had sent many a distressed officer into a state of outright panic recently, so much so that she had debated wearing sunglasses to hide them. "Riza."

"_Sergeant Hawkeye_, Colonel," she corrected, a little more coldly than she had intended.

He smirked and nodded, before standing. "The Fuhrer has ordered the State Alchemists to come here, starting tomorrow. We are to be put to battle."

Riza nodded. "I had wondered how long before it came to that."

He stared at her momentarily. "How old were you when this war started?"

"12, sir."

"I've been here the entire time, sitting behind a desk, ordering troops around, waiting for this moment. And now, it has finally arrived." He was smiling, and she felt her blood turn cold. "The most potent seven will be sent here to join me, due to our location close to the capital and other major cities, and the eight of us will start our attack in a week's time. The Fuhrer is coming with them to place them accordingly. Round up your seven best snipers and bring them here at 0630 hours tomorrow. We will assign one sniper to guard each alchemist, as well a several grunt guards. Then, in packs, you will go to your areas of the city and destroy it."

"Yes, sir."

Basque eyed her up and down. His stare made her feel dirty, even amongst all of this sand. "I intend to have you assigned to me. I have already requested it."

She nodded, resisting the urge to scream. "Yes, sir."

"Do you know how to speak polysyllabically, Riza?" Grand was smirking. Riza had a sinking feeling that he thought he probably looked quite handsome that way. He was still staring at her body with annoying amounts of liberty.

She frowned. "Yes, sir."

"Riza, I-"

"Sergeant Hawkeye, sir," she said again, angry this time.

He narrowed his eyes at her and stood to his full height, towering over her, and walked towards her. Within seconds he was standing directly in front of her. His hands made to grab her arms. Terror rose in her more quickly than she had thought possible.

The barrel of her handgun met his chest with a resounding _thwack. _He looked absolutely shocked at her audacity, and if she hadn't so desperately needed to be in control at that moment, she would have found that she was, too. "I don't know what you're planning, Colonel," she said dangerously, "but you had better get the idea out of your head right now. Especially if the Fuhrer is arriving tomorrow."

The threat was clear, and inside her mind was screaming _YOUJUSTTHREATENEDYOURSUPERIOROFFICERYOUJUSTTHREATENEDYOURSUPERIOROFFICERYOUIDIOT-_

Colonel Grand took a step back. He had a murderous look in his eyes. "I want you, Riza," he hissed angrily, "and by God, one way or another, I am going to have you."

She kept her gun aimed at him as she backed towards the door. "Not if I have anything to do about it," she replied, before disappearing.

--------------------

She was lined up on the far left-hand side of the eight best snipers in her squadron. The seven alchemists had filed in shortly after, and Colonel Grand had joined them on the other side of the tent. She'd felt his eyes on her the minute she had walked into the tent, but Riza had been determined to ignore it, and hadn't so much as glanced at him since. On the other side of the tent were 24 regular soldiers, also the supposed best in the camp. Some of them looked nervous, others outright worried. The last few looked absolutely smug.

The tent flap opened, and in walked the Fuhrer. Immediately, all 52 of them saluted. "At ease, soldiers," he said, and they lowered their arms though they did not relax. He nodded to Colonel Grand, and then turned to survey the whole group. "You have been selected and placed here because you are the best of the best, hand-picked by Colonel Grand, Sergeant Hawkeye, and myself." He nodded to her as well, and she acknowledged him back, straight-faced. "The alchemists have arrived, men, and shall be used accordingly. You will split into groups of eight," he described, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back, his voice loud and clear, his eyes traveling amongst them, "one alchemist, one sniper, and three soldiers to each group. Each squadron will sent to a specific town, or area of a larger city. The job of the soldiers is clear a path for the other two, and to protect the sniper. The sniper is to, at all costs, protect the alchemist from a specific vantage point we will lay out to him, or her," he added, giving Hawkeye a small smile. "The alchemist," he finished, in the loudest tone yet, "is to destroy the entirety of whatever area or town he is giving to destroy."

The Fuhrer turned to Riza, striding towards her but stopping several feet away. "These are certainly your best men, Sergeant?"

"Definitely, sir," she replied calmly. "I would entrust my life to any one of them."

He nodded, pleased by the answer. Grand was staring at her again.

"I have separated you all into groups according to what I know of you. Above all, we must finally put an end to this war. Some alchemists have powers more potent or more powerful than others, and thus need more suitable protection. As such, certain requests," he added, stressing the word _requests _and looking faintly annoyed, "have been ignored for the good of this operation."

Basque Grand looked murderous. He opened his mouth to speak.

"And I sincerely hope I shall hear nothing of it," The Fuhrer added, looking at him sharply.

He held out his hand. An awkwardly beautiful woman with wavy, dark hair stepped forward, handing him a single sheet of paper. He looked at it and read off the first group. "Concerning Flame Alchemist Major Roy Mustang. Assigned Sniper Captain Sergeant Riza Hawkeye-"

"_What?"_

Riza's eyes slid closed and she breathed deeply to avoid bursting out as Basque Grand stepped forward, looking absolutely pissed - pissed enough to ignore the last command the Fuhrer had given before reading off the assignment. The alchemist who had stepped forward, Roy Mustang, was, she admitted silently, easily one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and certainly the youngest of the alchemists present. She had also never heard of him, nor did she recognize him, which meant that not only was he fairly new to the trade, but that by assigning the Sniper Captain to him, the Fuhrer had gravely insulted Grand's own potency in favour of this upstart. She was inwardly mortified that this scene was taking place.

"Are you questioning my orders, Colonel?" asked the Fuhrer, looking angry himself.

"I am... wondering about them, sir," Basque said gruffly. "Riza is our best sniper, and certainly someone so young, such as Major Mustang, with no experience-"

"Needs more protection than the rest," the Fuhrer pointed out. "You are one of my best men, Colonel, but Major Mustang's fire will be able to take out the entirety of the capital in one snap of his fingers. Were you to transmute yourself into a thousand guns at one time, you could not do the same. Now, please step back into line and wait for your assignments." Grand had turned a deep shade of purple at this long--winded reprimand. He stepped backwards, and cast her the most scathing glare he had ever seen. "Also, Colonel," the Fuhrer added, turning away from him, "do not refer to Sergeant Hawkeye so disrespectfully. She is a Sergeant and shall be called as such."

Riza's eyes had closed again. She didn't want to see whatever looks anyone else was giving her.

--------------------

That night, she was sitting on her bed, cleaning her guns, trying to imagine that everything earlier hadn't actually happened. Colonel Grand hadn't thrown a fit over her being placed with another man, and hadn't been stupid enough to call her "Riza", and the entirety of her squad wasn't now assuming that she was sleeping with her superior officer. It was all just one huge mistake and it hadn't actually happened.

The Fuhrer had spoken to her afterwards. She had told him honestly that the Colonel appeared to have a slight fixation with her, and then she apologized for everything that had happened. The Fuhrer had told her that this had happened before and he would speak with Grand.

All of which added up to one spectacular day, in her opinion.

A person appeared, shadowed in the light, outside of her tent. She bit back a groan. "Sergeant Hawkeye?"

Riza tensed. She knew that voice, more classy and less gruff than the other men here. She had spoken to him briefly earlier, to acquaint herself with the man she was now supposed to protect with her life. She could only imagine what he thought of her. "Major Mustang?" she replied.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?"

She sighed and set her precious guns to the side, standing and unzipping the tent flap to slip outside. The sky was clear and Major Mustang was immaculately clean in his Military Uniform, so different from her. She had resigned herself to a life full of sand. "I wanted to apologize," he said, looking extremely embarrassed and rather like he was only here because he felt he had to say this.

"What for?" she asked, surprised.

"For splitting up you and the Colonel."

Oh God. She was going to vomit.

"You did me a favour, actually," she replied easily. He looked confused. "Don't let this get around," she explained, "but he has an obsession with me that was becoming extremely uncomfortable."

His eyes widened and he smirked. "I see."

She nodded, crossing her arms. He was staring at her face. She raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?" she asked softly.

Roy cocked his head, and smiled. She was taken aback. It was probably the most charming smile she'd ever seen. _Oh Lord, _she thought unhappily, _this is going to be interesting. _"Do you play chess, Sergeant?"

Riza looked confused. "Chess, sir?"

"Yes, Sergeant, chess. Do you play?"

"A little. I'm very bad at it, sir."

He continued to smile at her like that. "Do you want to get better?"

She glanced back at her guns, and then looked to her new commanding officer. The Flame Alchemist. "I suppose so, sir."

"Alright," he said triumphantly. "Follow me. And drop the 'sir' for now." He began to saunter away, and she to follow him, when he abruptly turned back around. "Ah, I forgot," he said, and held out his hand. She looked from it to his face, confused once again. "Hello, Sergeant Riza Hawkeye. I am Major Roy Mustang."

She stared at him a bit, and then found herself resisting the urge to laugh. She shook his hand, smiling slightly. "Hello, Major Roy Mustang."

He nodded, and turned back around, striding off. She followed, two steps behind.

Already, it felt comfortable.

--------------------

To no one's surprise after the Fuhrer's speech, Roy, Riza and their three guards - three man named Havoc, Johnson, and Breda, respectively - were assigned to take on the greater half of the Capital city. Last night, when she had come to visit Roy for their now nightly game of chess (which she always lost) around the campfire, she had noticed the ruby-red ring hanging from his neck at the time. He had noticed her staring.

"It's supposed to increase my alchemical power," he explained quietly. "The guy who made it, Marcoh... he seemed terrified of it. And the implications of that, in return... worry me."

She looked into his black eyes. "How so?"

"I don't know what it will do, and I've been wondering about this war since I saw the first battlefields on my way here. I don't know-"

"-If all of this force is necessary," she finished quietly. He nodded. The wind blew strongly, and she pulled her coat tighter around.

"How many have you killed, Riza?" He was looking at her with eyes of an innocent, deep, black eyes which had never before seen a life taken by his own hands. She looked away.

"Thousands," she said truthfully. "I've earned my reputation well." He was watching her, the way her wine-coloured eyes had gone blank as she spoke. He swallowed.

"Is it easy?"

She turned back to him. Her entire body seemed to have sagged. "I can't sleep at night," she told him. "I haven't been able to for more than an hour since my fourth day here."

He looked saddened. "Do you have nightmares?"

"I don't even _have _to sleep for those to come. They're always there." She shrugged, moving a bishop as the wind blew again. It was taken a few seconds later. "But you'll find out soon enough." He looked at her stoically, his body not belying the uncertainty he now felt. "Tomorrow, you'll have killed more than I have ever in less than a minute."

Roy swallowed and glanced at the board. His eyes lit up momentarily as he moved his queen. "Checkmate."

Riza sighed, and looked up at him with sad eyes. "I'm so tired."

The wind began to pick up. His eyes narrowed and he glanced out across the desert, but couldn't see far into its inky blackness. He turned back to her.

"What exactly happened between you and Colonel Grand, anyway?"

She sighed, placing her head in her hands. "He-"

The wind blew again, forcefully this time. Riza felt sand hit her face and turned with Roy to look out across the desert. Other men, milling about, had stopped to stare in the same direction. Colonel Grand himself chose that moment to appear, stepping towards them. He was looking out across the sand, and he looked worried.

The strongest gust yet blew. Sand flew around them, and she choked and began to cough badly. The chess set fell off of the small wooden table, and landed, to Roy's horror, in the fire. But he turned from it to kneel next to her and hold her as she coughed loudly.

Then, the wind began to savage them.

"Sandstorm!" some one called. Immediately, everyone was running haphazardly back to tents as they were quickly overcome with clouds of sand so thick, Roy couldn't see two feet in front of him.

"Riza!" Roy could barely see her, as he wrapped his arms around her and began to run. He could feel her body convulsing as she coughed against him, and he couldn't see the tents for the life of him. _God, _he thought, _I hope I'm going in the right direction._

She pulled away, grabbing onto his arm and running with him so as not to slow them down. He couldn't hear to tell if she was still coughing. He hoped not.

Abruptly, there was a tent in front of them. He reached out and fumbled with the zipper. Her hands joined his, and together they dragged it down. She went in first, and he followed, shutting the flap forcefully. A pile of sand was already at his feet.

He turned. Riza had collapsed on the bed a few feet away, and was hastily rubbing sand out of her eyes. He looked around, recoiling in surprise. _This is my tent! _Knowing this, though, Roy, immediately reached for his desk, scooping off the bowl of water that was always there for washing in this desert heat, and knelt next to her. "Riza," he said lowly, "I have a bowl of water. Dip your head into it and rinse out your eyes."

She reached out and found the edge of the bowl where his hands clasped it, before lowering her face into it. All was silent for a moment, and then she pulled back, wiping off her face. She opened her eyes; they looked demonic, crimson-rimmed, the white shot-through with red, and the irises already amber as they were. She noticed his expression and swatted him upside the head. He nearly dumped the bowl of water and glared at her.

Riza's eyes softened at that look, and as he turned away she placed a hand on his arm. Roy turned back to her stoically. "Thank you," she said simply.

He nodded, and stood to set the bowl back. She glanced around and started, seeing a picture of _Roy_, and a man with messy black hair, on a stand near the bed. Next to it was his State Alchemists' Qualification, the title _Flame Alchemist _printed boldly middle-center, framed. She looked up at him. "Is this your tent?"

He grinned. "Somehow."

Other than the desk on the far side, with only a notebook and pen on it, a large, plain trunk next to it, and that table with the two frames, the only thing in the room was the bed she was currently sitting on. She sat up abruptly. She'd been sitting on her superior officer's bed. Roy sighed, not noticing, and slipped his jacket off, hanging it on the back of his chair. He motioned for her to do the same. Riza shook her head, feeling immensely uncomfortable all of a sudden. The howling winds outside battered angrily at the tent. She hoped that it would hold.

He made a face. "That was my favourite chess set," he complained. Riza frowned at him. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, and... "well, it's a good thing I have several spares, I suppose."

She stared at him. "Want to play chess?" he asked, grinning. "There isn't much else to do."

Riza honestly wondered if he was sane sometimes. "Yes," she answered simply. "Though I know I will lose."

"And I know," he said cheekily, "that I'll win."

She frowned at him, and he chuckled.

--------------------

It was absolutely dark outside, and loud from the sounds of winds howling. The clock on Roy's desk read 1:04 AM. Roy was sitting on the end of his bed, with Riza stiff-backed in the chair accompanying his desk. They'd been listening to the ravaging outside for quite some time. Roy smiled in satisfaction when Riza first yawned.

"Are you tired?"

She looked at him gravely. "Whether or not I am," she told him quietly, "doesn't effect my ability to sleep. I'll still _see_ them."

Roy's boyish grin was gone now, replaced by a concerned frown. "You should sleep, Riza."

She shook her head mutely. "No."

"You're going to sleep tonight if I have to fight those demons myself," he said quietly. "Take the bed."

She gave him a _look. _"I'd much _prefer_ the floor, thank you, _sir_," she replied pointedly. "I'm not going to sleep anyway, Major, and you need plenty of rest for the raid in two days."

"So that I can snap my fingers?" he asked, smirking. "I am taking the floor either way. One of us might as well sleep in the bed."

"Sir," she snapped, angry, "this is entirely improper. I do not want-"

"I only want you to sleep, Sergeant," he said softly. "That's all. And if you lie awake all night... well, at least you'll be more comfortable than you would be on the floor."

Riza was silent as he stood and stretched. He smirked at her, before walking over to the trunk and opening it. He pulled out a blanket, and then grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair and bundled it together with some clothing. Dropping the bundle a few feet away from the bed, Roy made to lie down.

"Sir, you should really take the bed," she protested. "As your subordinate-"

"Not listening, Sergeant," he sang, before lying down and pointedly closing his eyes.

Riza felt torn. She didn't want to take the bed, especially since it was _his _bed, but it seemed a shame for it to go to waste. And really, she _was_ so very tired.

Standing, uncomfortable yet again, she awkwardly unbuttoned her military jacket and slipped it off, folding it up and setting it on his desk. Underneath, she was wearing the same black top she always wore. She reached up, pause momentarily, and then pulled out her hair clip, grimacing and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Roy was staring at her. He had a very... _different _look on his face. She hadn't seen it before, and it made her very uncertain. She avoided his gaze as she stepped over him and sat on the bed.

He had rolled over and was still staring at her. Or, more specifically, her hair. She met his eyes nervously. "I never thought," he admitted, "that you would have such lovely hair, but you really do. You should wear it down more often."

Riza stared at him in surprise as he rolled away and closed his eyes again. She bit her lip, turned off the lamp on the table, and slowly slid under the thick covers of his bed.

It smelled like him.

--------------------

He awoke sometime later that night to the muffled sound of panic in the darkness. Sitting up, he turned to where he knew _she _should be. "Riza?" he whispered.

Roy could make out the form of some one tossing on the bed, and the heavy, panicked breathing that signaled a nightmare. He stood up, teetered on sleepy feet for a moment, and stumbled over to her side. "Riza?" he asked again, more urgently, placing one warm hand on her shoulder.

She was still shaking, and he sat down on the bed, grasped the side of her body with both hands, and gently shook her. "Riza!" he said loudly, hoping she would finally wake up.

She did, sitting up, gasping, staring first at nothing and then turning to look at him. He could see tear tracks on her face in the moonlight.

Moonlight. The storm had dissipated. He ignored it, too intent on her.

"Are you alright?"

She wanted to say yes, to tell him that of course she is all right, but she knew that was a lie. She shook her head roughly, still panting slightly. "I told you," she said, harsher than she had planned, "that I don't sleep for a reason!"

He stared at her for a bit, before reaching down and taking her hand in his. "Lie down," he whispered softly.

Riza faltered, looking at him oddly. "What?"

"Just lie down, Riza."

She did so, too tired and too frightened to do much else but comply. He took her right shoulder and rolled her to lie on it, facing the fabric of the tent. She tried to sit up as he began to lie down next to her.

"I'm on top of the covers, Riza. I'm not trying to molest you, just relax."

Her cheeks felt red and she closed her eyes, feeling the traces of tears on them. Oh, this was so _wrong_, but when he gently wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her tightly against him, she felt so _safe, _and she hadn't felt that in such a long time.

"I'm going to protect you, Sergeant," he whispered into her lovely yellow hair. "Just sleep. I'll be here to fight the demons. I promise."

Her eyes slid closed again. When she woke up the next morning, she would be even more frightened at the prospect that only wrapped in Roy Mustang's arms did she find herself in a sleep without nightmares. And she would ignore the implications of that with all of her might.

--------------------

The wind was warm and slight, and they grouped together, the guards forming a triangle around them, Riza out in front, with Roy protected in the center. Breda and Johnson looked perfectly fine, but Havoc appeared more than a little anxious.

Roy was calm and cool as always. He was watching Riza, the way she seemed alert to everything all at once. Sergeant Hawkeye was an odd one, he thought. He'd met few people with such ambition at such a young age. God, she was still a teenager, for heaven's sake, but she acted so much _older_, and it frightened him sometimes.

They were nearing the city. Their objective was to make their way through it to a drugstore that roughly signified the center of the Ishbalan Capital, and then for him to blow up the more populous half of the city, thus obliterating the church, the capital building, and much of the population all in one go.

It was getting there that was going to be tricky, but that was why he had Riza with him.

They could see the edge of the city, now. The part nearest the military encampment had long since been abandoned, out of fear and the idea that groups of people were harder to manage than more of them spread out. Breda and Havoc took the first steps into the city, and Roy's eyes narrowed as they passed the border, marked in darker sand and spattered blood.

Everything was quiet as they moved through. Riza had her rifle slung over her shoulder, but she was holding two handguns, one in each hand, out in front of her, her red eyes scanning the area endlessly. She was so endlessly poised. Roy couldn't figure it out.

He needed to stop thinking about her right now, and concentrate on the damned mission.

And then, the first shot was fired.

Riza whirled towards the noise, her sharp eyes scouting the area. An answering shot from her rang through the window of a broken-down house ten feet away. A strangled cry issued from within, and then silence.

"Dammit," she whispered. They would be coming now.

She exchanged a look with him. "Keep moving," Roy commanded. The guards nodded. Havoc looked like he was going to be sick, Roy noted.

They could hear the sound of feet running. "This way," Riza hissed, and they moved quickly with her into the alleyway of the side of another broken building. Roy stood behind her as she leaned her head around the side. "They're going towards the source," she said softly. "They'll know we're here somewhere."

"How many?" Roy asked.

"12 or so."

Roy was silent for a moment. "I can take care of it."

Their eyes met. "Are you certain sir?" she asked quietly, so the other men did not hear. Roy's facial expression did not change. She knew he had never killed before.

"Out of the way, Sergeant."

He stepped forward, around the building, and raised one gloved hand high. A dozen faces looked up from near the building on the other side of the street. "Military bastard!" one of the cried.

The sound of two fingers snapping echoed as flames leapt up from no where, accompanied by horrendous screams and the smell of burning flesh.

Riza stepped out, her eyes locked on Roy. His face betrayed him; he looked horrified. She stepped around, grabbing his arm. "Major Mustang," she commanded, "we have to _go."_

His black eyes were troubled as he turned to her, but he nodded as she led him away.

They made their way through the streets as such. Riza was always in front, always taking down those who came out of nowhere. Breda, Havoc, and Johnson would shoot as Roy raised his hand before obliterating a large crowd of people, and then they would run again.

Havoc's hand stopped shaking. Roy's eyes hardened. These people were trying to _kill _them.

That thought kept running through his head when they reached the drugstore, and he stared out, from the top of a roof, at the majestic city spread out before him.

"Get back," he warned the other four. Riza was already on the side of the roof, sniper rifle in hand, scouting the streets.

He slipped the ring onto his finger, and raised his hand.

And snapped.

--------------------  
**A/N:** Oh my gosh, was that like 30 times longer than I thought this chapter would be (over 6000 words. Longest chapter I have _ever _written. Ever.). The next chapter is the aftermath of Ishbal. I'm sure you can imagine how that'll turn out, but I won't give anything away :-P 

If the ending seemed rushed, I am truly sorry. But I began to feel like this chapter wasn't. going. to. end.

As always, review. I feel so happy when people review If you're going to flame, please do so nicely. I can take constructive criticism quite well, but not harshness.

Love,  
**CEA**


	3. The Aftermath

--------------------  
**Ten Sides of Royai  
**3. The Aftermath  
By **CEA  
**-------------------- 

Riza couldn't look in the mirror.

It was the day after the capital city had finally been completely wiped out. The war was all but over; there were several smaller cities left in the state, and she and Major Mustang had already been informed that it was their duty to finish off these few places, before their group would be one of the last to be sent home. The alchemists had worked for a little over 24 hours, and the war was over. She had been there a year.

It had finally come to this point. Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw her eyes. Riza was horrified that she couldn't look at her own reflection, but her eyes were a deep amber, a brown that was almost red, like those of the many she had killed, and in them she saw their silhouettes like dreams: the children at the end of her sniper rifle, the faces screaming in horror, standing over the dead bodies of their friends as flames ravaged the city. She could see Roy's impassive stance, his black hair blowing in the breeze, his right hand still held out in front of him, with that emblem engraved in the back of those pure, white gloves.

The nightmares were so horrifying that she would barely blink for fear of what would be seen in the dark. She felt weak, and her entire body seemed to hurt. She had heard the stories of the soldiers who had held guns to their heads and pulled the trigger, and she found herself beginning to admire them for having the courage she lacked.

She was sitting in front of a lone campfire. It had to be sometime past midnight. She wasn't the only one; many other soldiers were staring unseeingly into the flickering flames, as though hoping to gain back whatever they'd thought they had before this horrible war. Her arms were wrapped loosely around her stomach, blonde hair falling out of a looser-than-normal bun to sway ghostly in the lukewarm wind.

Riza stood, and stretched out a shiver before walking slowly away from the fire, to waste some time in this sad, cool night.

Damn, she was tired. This was horribly annoying, come to think of it. Pretty soon she was going to be off-aim, and that could be dangerous, for both herself and the Flame Alchemist. They had a mission in the morning, in those remaining cities, and she needed to be ready. Right now, she was semi somnambulant and it wasn't good at all.

She saw Havoc standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, cigarette in his mouth, staring up at the stars, of all things. Riza took a cue from him, turning around and lifting her head. Orion was on the horizon, her favourite constellation. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cool, refreshing air, in the hopes that it might wake her slightly.

Dimly, through the thin air, she heard some one cry out weakly.

She opened her eyes and frowned, turning her blonde head and listening. There it was again, coming from one of the larger tents. She walked swiftly over to makeshift home and stood in front of it. Twenty feet away was the campfire where she'd always lost in chess to the Major.

A weak moan of fear and pain wafted through the layers of fabric. She reached down to lift the zipper and make sure whomever was inside was okay. Then she froze, turning to view the campfire again, and look back at the tent.

Shit. This was Major Mustang's tent.

She stared at the fabric weakly, uncertain as to what to do. He cried out again, and she bit her lip, before unzipping the flap and slipping half her body inside. "Sir?"

No answer. Riza could see a figure tossing in the thin bed a few feet away. She stepped all the way inside and closed the tent up to prevent sand from blowing inside, before taking a step closer to him. "Major Mustang? Are you all right?"

He whimpered, still asleep, still caught up in nightmares she was so familiar with. Riza knelt next to the bed, his tormented features facing her, and her own found one hand, bare, looking so small from lack of a pure, white glove yet still so much larger than hers, the thumb and middle fingers callused and worn. Immediately, he gripped her's tightly in his own. His eyes snapped open, so black that only the whites were visible in what light there was.

"Riza?" Roy whispered, and all the fear and pain from what he had done was released in one relieved murmur in the night. He couldn't make out her features, but he would have felt ashamed at the worry and unhappiness in those red eyes she couldn't look at.

"I'm here, sir," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I'll protect. I'll always protect you."

God. She hated to do this, but he'd breached protocol for her sake, and she owed him one, she decided. She let go of his hand momentarily, painfully ignoring his sharp intake of breath, and shrugged out of her heavy military jacket before sitting on the edge of the bed. He got the idea, and scooted away to the far side. She untied her military boots and slipped them off, each second making her feel more and more anxious, but she ignored that as well. If he needed this, then she would give it to him. She'd meant what she'd said.

She lay down on top of the covers next to him, and found his hand again in the darkness. She could feel him looking at her, at the way her blonde hair caught the faint traces of light and turned to silver like moonlight.

"Why are you here?" he asked her, uncertain in his fear.

"I heard you cry out, sir," she replied honestly. "I couldn't leave you here." She shifted closer to him, pressing their enclasped hands to her chest. "I'm going to protect you, Major," she whispered into the darkness between them. "Just sleep. I'll be here to fight the demons. I promise."

He was too tired to register that he'd told her the same thing two nights before. He nodded, and within seconds was asleep.

Riza was shocked and angered that the demons she had fought so long would attack this man who had barely been here a week. How long had it taken her to see them like this? Unconsciously, she pulled his hand closer to her heart, squeezing her eyes shut. God, how many people had he killed today? Thousands upon thousands? Her number was nothing compared to his, and if her number haunted her the way it did...

She opened her eyes, studying his features in the night. He was so different from her. So dark, he blended almost completely into midnight: black hair, black eyes, darker skin, he who could burn her from the inside out if he wanted. And here she was, this little blonde thing who dared to think her pain held any comparison to his.

Riza felt those demons clawing at her, and closed her eyes. No, they weren't going to bother her anymore. She had to protect him, with her life if necessary. She could feel it ringing in every bone. He'd tried harder than anyone else to pull her back from the edge, and for that she would always protect him. She had to; there was no way else to repay him for that one act of kindness.

So she couldn't have anymore nightmares, and she couldn't let those demons get to her anymore. Not if she was going to fight his, too.

An immense feeling of peace washed over her, and she closed her eyes, listening to his steady breathing. It really was that simple, wasn't it? She had to protect him, and for that, she had to be strong. So she would be.

If his power was flame, why did she feel like she was drowning?

--------------------

They spent their next few days together on-and-off. They were paired for the larger-scale operations, and split up for the small ones. She heard later that Roy'd been ordered to kill two doctors; the rumor was that the famous Flame Alchemist had almost committed suicide on the spot after the deed. She'd refused to be parted with him after that, arguing with Colonel Grand until the man had complied out of sheer irritation.

Riza could feel Roy watching her most of the time, but refused to acknowledge his gaze. She knew what it meant. _What are you doing? Why are you trying to help me? _She didn't have an answer for him, not one she wanted to admit out loud.

More people died. The alchemists were slowly sent home. Several soldiers, most notably Zolof Kimblee, were sent to prison for crimes against their own. Soon, only she and Roy remained, along with maybe two dozen others.

The last town was wiped out. The train was coming, and with it promises of promotions and some peace, especially for an ebony-haired man with haunted black eyes.

Her minor possessions were packed in a small bag, dumped at her feet as she stood with others of lower rank, waiting for that train to arrive and take them to Central. All the men looked weary, but glad that this was over, and most seemed glad that they had taken part in this war.

Somewhat down the line, waiting with Colonel Grand and the last other officer of higher rank, was Major Mustang. He was staring out into nothing, his already pale face whiter than she had imagined.

"Sergeant Major Hawkeye!"

She glanced up into the grinning face of Jean Havoc. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. "And what does the military's most recognized Sniper plan on doing after this? Training up some new recruits, I imagine?"

Riza looked at him for a moment, contemplating, before she looked back down the line to where a black-haired man was coughing.

Havoc was watching her knowingly when she turned back to him. "Or," he commented in a lower voice, "are you going to follow some one else, instead?"

She sighed. "I don't really know where I'm going, Sergeant."

"He's a good man, Major Mustang," Havoc continued. "Maybe he'll change this country for the better, eh?"

Riza looked at him in surprise, and he winked, picking up his bag as the train slid into station. He saluted her. "Talk to you later, Sergeant."

She nodded, and returned the salute.

--------------------

The compartment door slid open to admit a slender, feminine build. Colonel Grand glanced up and frowned, standing to block her path.

"You're not supposed to be up here, Sergeant."

Riza saluted him. "Just reporting to Major Mustang, per his request, sir."

The Colonel frowned. "Reporting on?"

"The status of the remaining men."

"What?"

"Psychologically, sir, this war had quite an effect. I'm sure you noticed that."

The Colonel let out an annoyed puff of air, but growled and stepped aside to let her pass. She bowed her head quickly and continued on her way down the train.

Major Mustang sat in the last compartment, staring like the dead out the window. It took him several seconds to notice Riza's presence, and when he did he could barely meet her eyes. "Sergeant? What are you doing up here?"

"I wanted to check up on you, sir, and see if you... if you were all right," she said quietly.

He snorted, which was very unlike him. "Never better."

She noticed Colonel Grand watching them from the far end of the compartment, and quickly sat down opposite Roy. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Sergeant, what are you-"

"Colonel Grand, sir," she explained in a lower voice. "I told him I was reporting to you on the health of our men."

Roy stared at her blankly for a moment, and then turned to look out the window again. "And how are they?"

"A hell of a lot better than you. Sir."

He shot her a glare. Their eyes locked for a moment, burnt sienna and obsidian, and she saw his widen. He stopped breathing, and grasped the arm of his chair. "Sergeant," he choked out, "your eyes..."

She closed them immediately. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize-" she stopped. Sighing, she looked down into her lap so that he wouldn't have to see that reddish hue. "I'll go, sir."

"No, wait." Riza paused from getting out of the chair. "Look at me, Sergeant."

She paused, and lifted her head to look at him again. He sucked in a breath, and forcefully relaxed his shoulders. "Brown," he said quietly. "Your eyes. They have some brown in them. They aren't just... red."

"No," she agreed softly. "Though I can't look into the mirror myself." Roy looked at her in surprise for that. "My grandfather always said they were... _amber_, sir."

"Amber," he repeated softly. The word sounded like liquid on his tongue. "Yes, Sergeant, I suppose they are."

She felt flustered, for some reason, at the odd turn this conversation had taken. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "That isn't why I'm here, though, sir," she clarified, bringing the conversation back around. "I'm here because I'm worried about you." He stiffened. "I'm not going to believe you're fine, Major, no matter how many times you say you are," she added sternly. "I was there with you, and I know what you went through, and I saw your reactions. So, please, sir," she finished, a slight pleading tone creeping into her formal militaristic voice, "don't lie to me."

Roy was staring at her like he couldn't believe the words she'd just spoken. His voice was hollow when he replied. "This war... why were we even here, Sergeant? They spoke of Ishbalans as some horrible people who would kill us in an instant, but when you look at the whole picture... wasn't that us?" Riza's amber eyes widened immeasurably as his words sunk in. "We came in, and with barely a warning, we massacred an entire country's people without any thought to them. Hundreds of thousands of people, Sergeant, dead in these seven years. How many casualties have we had in comparison? Whatever loss we think we have... it is nothing. And yet they order me," he said, shaking, "to kill two innocent doctors who only want to save however many lives they can." He looked so haunted. "And what have we gained?" he asked in a much softer voice. "We have killed an entire race of people, and what have we gained? Land? We have no use for this sand and blood. Honor? After killing so many? What have we gained?"

Riza was silent. She had no answer.

"All that is left in the aftermath of this war is an empty desert, devoid of life and echoing with the ghosts of the past." Roy was staring out the window again. "I can never forget that, Sergeant, nor the voices and faces of the thousands I have killed with these hands." Upon saying so, he clenched those hands into fists. "So if you're asking if I'm going to be all right, I suppose that is your answer."

Precious seconds passed between them in silence. She felt sick and utterly helpless in the face of his despair. How was she to protect him from anything, if she couldn't protect him from himself?

She was more horrified yet when she saw that he was crying.

Riza glanced down the compartments. Wherever Colonel Grand was, he was facing away from them, so she stood up to sit back down next to Roy. He looked at her again, and she gently reached over and wrapped her right arm around his head, gently pulling him down to lay his head on her chest.

"If you really hate it that much," she said quietly, "perhaps, sir, you should try to change it."

She didn't see the widening of his eyes, the cool calculations taking place in that moment behind deep within that tortured mind. That one sentence, those fifteen words, were the catalyst which would change their future forever.

--------------------

The reception hall was completely filled with soldiers on either side, staring in admiration at the line of soldiers running from one end to the other. These were the heroes of Ishbal, those who had shown remarkable aptitude in the war, and here they were to be promoted. Riza was near the front of the line, behind the alchemists and several soldiers of higher rank, at the front of the snipers. She'd been extremely surprised and more than a little annoyed to learn that her reputation was now known throughout the military; a barely-19-year-old sniper who became (somewhat impromptu) the youngest Sniper Captain in a time of war. Never mind that she was (or, potentially as of today, had been) only a Sergeant Major; higher-ups seemed wary of her even.

It was ridiculous. She wasn't some Amazon woman going around shooting people.

The Fuhrer entered, ending her train of thought as she snapped into a salute with the rest of the room. The Fuhrer waved his arm, and addressed the crowd.

"Those you see before you have demonstrated their remarkable abilities on the battlefield, abilities which allowed us to win this War in the East. We are gathered here today to express our gratitude, because we could not have done this without them."

He stepped forward and spread his arms wide, indicating the first group of people. "The alchemists," he declared, "who came in the nick of time to wipe out the Eastern rebellion and make this a victory." He stepped forward, nodding to the next group. "Those who planned the actions in the war." A few more steps, and he was directly in front of Riza. Though his sweep of arms indicated the entire section, his eyes focused primarily on her. "The snipers," he said, "who protected everyone, with eyes like a hawk."

With this particular comment, Riza felt most eyes on her, and she gritted her teeth annoyedly. The Fuhrer was smiling kindly at her, though, and she gave him a gentle nod in return.

He traveled down the line, announcing specific sections of notables as he went. When he had finished, he stopped at the far side, and began to go through each individual person, handing them their medals and promotions in turn.

Most were soldiers who had saved a comrade's life, or who had contributed to one specific moment in a battle, promoted one rank accordingly. As he got down the line and began to get closer to where Riza stood, the deeds done and honors won became more extravagant, and the promotions and number of medals increased as well. She felt a well of pride as he came to her bunch of snipers, standing down from her, and as their trials and deeds were commemorated.

Finally, he came to her, and she saw a huge smile break out upon his face. "First Sergeant Riza Hawkeye," he declared loudly. Her name rang through out the hall, and she felt all eyes on her yet again. He lowered his voice. "Are you aware, Sergeant," he said quietly, "that you are the only woman in this line?"

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he noticed and smiled slightly. "I am proud of you," he added in that same quiet voice. "'Sergeant Hawkeye," he announced, loudly again, "has the notable distinction of being the youngest Sniper Captain appointed during a time of war, as well as the only female one in the noble history of Amestris. She saved many lives with her sharp eyesight, and served a large part in ending this war. For that, she receives the Iron Cross, and is granted a battlefield commission, promoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant of the Armed Forces." She heard some one whistle down the line. Bradley lowered his voice again, his eyes sparkling. "Congratulations, Sergeant Hawkeye," he said, before passing down the line once more.

She was speechless? Medals, _and _a battlefield commission promotion? It wasn't often done, with all of the wars Amestris seemed to be a part of, and especially not to women.

Once again, she could feel the eyes of the dead upon her.

--------------------

There was a party after - a Military Ball to celebrate the homecoming of the soldiers and the Awards Ceremony. Riza hated formal events, and always felt out of place in a dress. The one she was wearing tonight was light silvery-blue, and a bit shorter than she would have liked, but her Grandfather had bought it for her for the occasion, proud as always, and she felt obligated to wear the damned thing.

He'd made her put her hair down, too. She'd been more than a little annoyed at that.

"Well, you certainly cut a pretty sight."

Riza turned to her right. The Fuhrer was smiling at her in that paternal way she was almost used to. He stepped over to her, holding out an arm. "Would you care to dance, Lieutenant?"

Riza's eyes went wide with surprise. "Yes, sir," she replied, wondering how she kept getting all of this unwanted attention.

He led her out to the dance floor. She could, yet again, feel quite a few people watching them in surprise. Across the floor, Roy was chatting up several young woman, all of whom were looking at him with wide, vacant, admiring eyes.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," Bradley commented, following her gaze as he slipped an arm around her waist, "has always been popular with young women."

Riza smiled slightly and nodded. "I've noticed."

They began to dance, and she wasn't surprised to find that the Fuhrer was rather good at it. "Glad to be back from the war?"

She wasn't sure how to answer the question, since the man asking it had been the person to declare war in the first place. Bradley must have noticed it on her face, though, and he smiled warmly. "Most are, my dear. It's all right."

Riza nodded, feeling slightly chagrined. "So, Lieutenant," he said quietly, "as one of my more decorated war heroes, and easily my youngest, I have a question for you." She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. "Have you any requests?"

He didn't elaborate, and her eyebrows furrowed. "What, sir?"

"For your next position," the Fuhrer clarified. "You've spent most of your military life in the war, my dear, but now the war is over, and we must place you in a different position." He was watching her intently, and she felt somewhat flustered. "Do you have any requests?"

Involuntarily, she couldn't help but glance over to Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, as he joked with most of his admirers. Catching herself, Riza turned quickly back to Fuhrer Bradley, but he had a knowing look on his face. "Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," he informed her, "is to serve as a Commanding Officer in Central soon. He will be helping with the recruitment and supervising of new alchemists, as well as the more mundane general aspects of military life. He will need a staff," he added, raising his eyebrows slightly, "and I believe you would do well to assist him, if that is your wish. After all, you know him best of us, and he may need some one there who remembers the war."

She felt a strange warmth in her gut. A rare, _real _smile found its way onto her face unbidden. "I would like that, sir," she said honestly. "Though, if I may, there is one other whom I believe he might like to have there."

The Fuhrer raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"A Sergeant Havoc, sir."

"I will look into it," he said with a smile. " I believe Sergeant Havoc was considering OCS, last I spoke to him."

Riza nodded. "Thank you, sir." The song slowed to a halt, as did the pair dancing. She offered him a smile, reserved smile. "It was a pleasure dancing with you, sir."

"And you, Lieutenant. I hope to see you at more of these functions. Congratulations, as well." He bowed to her, and left.

As the Fuhrer cleared her vision, she was surprised to see Lieutenant Colonel Mustang standing a few feet behind him, staring at her, hands in his pockets. Riza looked at him, feeling suddenly self-conscious in her too-short light-blue-ish dress. In truth, despite the tired look about him, he had a certain _life_ to him again, a sparkle back in those onyx eyes that gladdened her heart. She had hoped that being out of the war zone would do him some good, and she was happy to find that that was true.

Or so she had thought.

He stepped up to her, his eyes intense as always. He gave her a cocky grin as he quietly whispered, "dance with me."

Riza had no choice but to oblige as his left hand slid firmly around her petite waist, drawing her close to him as his right hand slid into hers, holding it up close to their shoulders. She couldn't look away from his eyes, and she was horrified to find herself blushing at the look in them. "You're a Second Lieutenant now, I hear," he commented softly, still grinning. "Managed to attain a battlefield commission. Congratulations."

"I should say the same to _you_, Lieutenant Colonel," she replied in kind.

"True," he said, winking at her. "I'd say the title suits me." Riza gave him a _look_, and he laughed. "Truly, Lieutenant," he said, more seriously, "it wouldn't have mattered to me two weeks ago, a new rank, when we were on that train home. But you said something to me then that stuck with me."

Riza was surprised, racking her brain. What had she said to him? She couldn't remember. Roy smiled at her, though, as though sensing her confusion, before growing serious again. "I tried to kill myself again, a week ago," he stated quietly, bluntly.

Her mind reeled and she stopped dancing, feeling her knees go weak. His eyes widened, and he tightened his arms around her. "You _what?_" she asked, amber eyes searching his, terrified.

Roy pulled her upwards, supporting her until she felt her heartbeat slow and she closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "I tried to kill myself," he repeated, gently. Her eyes opened and they stared at one another for a poignant moment. "I couldn't do it," he continued, turning his head to the side, looking away from her. "The gun was lying on the desk, and I just stood and stared at it for what felt like hours, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. And then I made a decision."

Her eyes had narrowed, staring at him in uncertainty. He met them again, hand tightening on hers. He began to move, and they were dancing again, as her fears were temporarily suppressed. "Maes showed up," he went on. Riza looked confused, and he clarified, "my best friend, Major Maes Hughes. You'll meet him soon enough, I imagine. He came to try to cheer me up, and saw what I had tried to do, the books on human transmutation, and the gun. I confessed. Two weeks ago, on the train, you told me that if I didn't like how everything had turned out, then I should try to change it. At first, I thought I could get past the forbidden, and do the transmutation correctly."

"Colonel, that's taboo for a reas-"

"I know, Lieutenant," he interrupted, grinning slightly. "I know. So I didn't do that. And then I realized that there was an easier way."

Riza felt a strange fluttering in her stomach as he finally revealed what he was talking about. "I'm going to become Fuhrer," he said quietly but powerfully. "I'm going to change it, Riza. I'm going to make it _right_. No more wars for no reason, no more killing of innocents. It's the only way."

They'd stopped again. Her amber eyes were very, very wide. "Roy, are you serious?" she asked in a breath.

"Yes, Lieutenant," he said. "I am very serious. Maes had pledged to help me. But I don't think... I don't _want _to do it without you," he said, and the tone of his voice had changed dramatically. "You were there, Riza. You saw it all, you know what I mean. I want you there. I know you can help me. I've requested to have you on my staff in Central," he added. "The Fuhrer has agreed. Will you help me?"

She suddenly realized how very vulnerable they were, surrounded by hundreds of people. Her head swiveled in a panic, surveying the room, but no one was paying any attention to them. He was looking anxiously at her when she turned back to him.

Help him become _Fuhrer? _It was an absolutely crazy idea, and one that could get them into a hell of a lot of trouble if it was ever made public knowledge. It probably would never work, and Lord knows, Roy would probably drive her crazy in a short amount of time. True, she cared for him, but working with a suicidal alchemist, especially trying to get one _promoted _as necessary, was difficult at best, and there were her own goals to think about. But still... _still, _this was _Roy, _and she _did _care about him very much, more than she wanted to think about, especially when he was looking at her with those eyes. And there was the frightening fact that she _did _care about him that much, and that was dangerous. If she devoted herself to him like this, it only meant more time, and more opportunity for everything to change, for her to...

God. She was fooling herself. How could she possibly say no to him? He _had _saved her out there, from those demons that had driven him to suicide attempts and this damnable decision, and he had done it with nary a thought for himself. He needed someone level-headed, someone who could keep him on track. He needed _her, _truth be told, even as she tried to deny it to herself. And she'd already made her decision, that fateful day in Ishbal when she had heard him crying out. She couldn't turn back now. She was in too deep already.

"Yes," she said softly, so softly she wasn't sure she'd even said it, but the look in his black eyes and the smile that rapidly spread across his handsome face told her otherwise. "I'll help you become, Fuhrer, Colonel," she clarified. "I'd already requested... to work with you, actually," she added, resisting the urge to blush again.

Roy looked fit to explode. Ignoring all protocol, he swept her into a great bear hug. Riza's eyes went wide, and this time she _did _blush as several of their colleagues gave them questionable looks. "'Colonel?"

He let her go, stepping back and coughing. "Apologies, Lieutenant. That was inappropriate."

Riza shook her head at him, reaching up to press a thin forefinger to temple. "My first suggestion," she commented, "as your subordinate, Colonel, is to not speak of such matters openly."

He grinned cheekily. She was already beginning to be annoyed by that grin. "Duly noted, Lieutenant."

Why was it that she didn't believe him?

--------------------

A/N: Apologies for this chapter taking so long. I've been rather busy. Band Festival was last weekend and Band State Solo-Ensemble is next weekend and it's all kind of insane at the moment, so I won't promise a quick update, but I will try

The next chapter is just filler for before they meet the Elrics. If anyone has some wonderfully funny plot line that can be done extremely in a relatively short amount of words for various things that happened in between, I would love you forever.

I've edited this a bit. A wonderful fan by the name of Zamnandi informed me that in order to go from Sergeant to Lieutenant one must go through OCS (Officers Candidate School) which a) made me really happy that I now knew that and b) made me really depressed because I thought I had to re-write a whole bunch of stuff and re-work the next chapter. But then I discovered the wonderful idea of 'battlefield commissions' via Wikipedia, AKA My New Best Friend, and I figured that Riza deserved one :-P So, yay Riza.

Love,  
**CEA**


	4. Prologue to a Fateful Meeting

--------------------  
**Ten Sides of Royai**  
4. Prologue To A Fateful Meeting  
By **CEA**  
--------------------

Years passed in general silence. Riza was introduced to Major Hughes, Roy's best friend, and his wonderful girlfriend, Gracia, whom Riza quickly became close to, happy to find another female when she was perpetually surrounded by men. Sergeant Havoc became Lieutenant Havoc, and their small but potent group was rounded out by Sergeant Breda and a young, kind-hearted man named Fuery. Roy slacked, and Riza cut her hair short. He looked at her when she walked in, golden tresses cut around her ears, and asked, in typical Roy-fashion, "Lieutenant, what the hell did you do to your hair?"

She regarded him with narrowed eyes, as she set her folder down on her desk. "I cut it, sir."

"Why?"

Riza gave him one of her famous _looks _as she sat down and began to file paperwork. "Do I have to have a reason to cut my hair, sir?"

"When you cut it _that _short," he said, raising his eyebrows with the accent, "yes."

She ignored him, something she'd become quite good at by this time. It did her little good, though, as Second Lieutenant Havoc took that moment to amble through the doorway, yawning. He stopped in his tracks as he saw her, eyes wide. "Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Havoc?" she replied, starting to become _very _annoyed.

"Why did you cut your hair so short?"

She sighed, putting her head in her hands. "If I'd known it would be this much trouble, I wouldn't have."

Jean shared a glance with Roy, before pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it up to his mouth. As he fished around in a pocket for the lighter, he commented, "this doesn't have anything to do with The Incident, does it?"

The capital letters were extremely evident, especially when Riza shot him a deathglare he missed as he finally found the lighter. Roy perked up immediately. "The Incident? What Incident?"

"There was no Incident," Riza said clearly, still glaring at Havoc.

Who completely missed it, still intent upon lighting his cigarette. "Sure there was," he continued. "You know what I'm talking about, Lieutenant Hawkeye. In the cafeteria-"

He was cut off as a wadded-up piece of paper knocked the finally-lit cigarette out of his hand to the floor. He looked up in annoyance, and his expression changed completely when he saw Riza's face.

"Right," he said stiffly. "There was no Incident."

"Oh no you're not," Roy countered, looking put-out. "If there was an Incident, I want to hear about it."

"There was no Incident," Riza and Jean said in a unison monotone, he looking cowed under the force of the glare she was still giving him.

Unfortunately for Riza, Fuery chose that moment to walk in, bright-eyed as usual. The look on his face changed completely upon viewing Riza. "Lieutenant Hawkeye!" he declared, surprised. "You didn't have to cut your hair just because-"

"Shhh!" Havoc hissed, looking terrified of Riza, who looked ready to explode.

Fuery looked confused, glancing between the three people in the room. He settled back on Riza, still looking concerned. "The Incident wasn't _that _bad, Lieutenant, I don't-"

"There _was _no Incident!" Riza and Jean declared in unison.

"Yes there was!" Roy cried, slapping his hands on his desk and looking positively gleeful at finally having some potential dirt on his pristine female Lieutenant. "There was, and none of you are hiding it from me!"

"Colonel!" Riza snapped, giving him the full force of her heated glare, "I believe you have plenty of paperwork to continue, and if you don't, I am already in a _very _bad mood."

The door opened, and in walked Breda, yawning as always. He stopped in his tracks, looked at Riza for a long pause, and then a grin split his face. "Oooh, Brigadier General Grand is going to have a field day once he's seen this, Lieutenant. _Has_ he seen you yet?"

The room had gone deathly silent as the gleeful look fell off of Roy's face to be replaced by one of deathly calm. Riza looked stricken; Havoc and Fuery had both sat down, and were studiously staring at their respective desks.

"What," Roy said slowly and quietly, "has Brigadier General Grand to do with this?"

He was staring at Riza, and she met his gaze silently. Both remembered well everything that had transpired between them those years before, and Roy couldn't help but feel overprotective of Riza sometimes. She'd probably shoot him if he ever told her that, but he didn't deny its truth. "Lieutenant, I asked you a question."

She didn't answer, merely stared at him impassively, and somewhat wearily.

"Brigadier General Grand," Breda said tactlessly as he plunked down into his chair, missing entirely the tenseness of the room (Roy wondered vaguely, as the man spoke, how some one so _dense _could be so good at chess), "has asked Lieutenant Hawkeye out every day for the past month."

"Apparently," Riza cut in a tense voice, her body shaking slightly, "ignoring the blatant disregard of the No Fraternization rule."

"And yesterday-"

"Sergeant!" Riza cut in, her eyes closed. Her hands were balled into fists at her side. She looked the closest to crying Roy could remember since-

"What did he do?"

Riza sighed, her body sagging. "Never mind it, Colonel."

"I want to know, Riza."

"No, sir."

"Riza-"

"Sir, I don't-"

"Dammit, Lieutenant!" he interrupted, looking supremely pissed off. "You are my subordinate, under my jurisdiction, and I want to know what happened that upset you so much that you cut your hair - something that, quite frankly, is a very immature action from you, Lieutenant."

There was absolute silence for what felt like a very long time. "He, um," Havoc cut in, fishing around desperately for a cigarette and looking somewhat panicked as he glanced between Roy and Riza several times, "sort of... _groped _Lieutenant Hawkeye in the lunch line yesterday."

Roy was very silent. His face was like a stone mask. Riza's eyes were squinted closed again, and her hands were balled into fists so tight, her knuckles were completely white. "He didn't entirely get away with it, though," Havoc added, his mouth full of a cigarette. "Hawkeye hit him where it hurts, if you know what I mean. And Sergeant Breda threw him out of the room, in effect."

"Did you tell Fuhrer Bradley?" Roy cut in.

Riza's head snapped up to stare at him. "Of course not."

"You know he wanted to hear if anything else happened."

"It's been more than a year since Ishbal, sir. He won't remember."

Roy gazed at her levelly. "You know he will, Lieutenant. He's almost as protective of you as I am."

She looked surprised, as did the others in the room. Roy's face flushed moments after he said the statement, but he continued to glare at her.

She sighed. "Fine," she said. "I'll tell him. But nothing will come of it."

"See that you do, Lieutenant. Now, I believe we all have paperwork to do."

It was his common cover-up, after messy situations: pretend to focus on work.

Really, Havoc noticed, though he would never say anything, Colonel Mustang spent most of the day watching Lieutenant Hawkeye. But he could have imagined it.

--------------------

That was the last time General Grand approached Riza in any form but a professional one, those his eyes would still smoulder at her from time to time. She spoke with the Fuhrer, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Brigadier General Grand disappeared for two weeks, starting the next day. There was a rumor that his mustache had been mysteriously burned off, somehow, while he was standing over the lunch line, leaving him with a rather ugly scar across his upper lip. He waited until it was covered up before returning to work. He never did comment on Riza's hair, though she found she liked it short, and kept it that way for years.

--------------------

Riza entered the building like she always did, though today the weather was nice and she'd walked a little slower to work. She wasn't late yet, though, so she walked up the stairs at her usual pace. Various office doors were open as she walked down the familiar corridor, and various persons of higher and lesser rank than she saluted her on her way past. She nodded to them with a tight smile, her bag held firmly in one grip.

"Lieutenant!"

She glanced behind her. Fuery had just arrived, and was a few feet behind her, having entered from a different door. "Good morning," she greeted him as they both walked towards their office.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye," he agreed. "It's a lovely day outside."

She smiled to herself. Fuery was really much more light-hearted than any of them, on any given day, rendering him extremely likeable. It was one reason they all liked to tease him so much, though none of them would ever admit it.

_Much like how the boys all enjoy frustrating **me**_, she thought annoyedly.

Fuery opened the door for her, and they stepped into the office. Her eyebrows rose immediately.

Havoc, Breda, and Mustang were all crouching on top of the desks, looking horrified. Breda was white as a sheet.

"What's going on?" she asked, confused.

As one, the men all pointed to the center of the floor. Sitting there, a dead black against the carpet, was an enormous spider.

"Kill it," Roy commanded immediately, in a strangled voice.

She looked at them in amazement. "You have _got _to be kidding me," she declared, watching as the arachnid stretched one hairy leg and Breda let out a strangled cry and backed up against the wall.

Riza glanced down at Fuery, who was staring at the spider. "Poor thing," he said quietly, but she noticed that he was also very pale. "It can't help being ugly."

"You're afraid, too?" she asked. He nodded mutely, stepping back over the threshold. She looked immediately at Roy. "One of the foremost experts in alchemy, with the power to _burn anything in sight_, and you can't take care of a little _spider?_"

Evidently, this hadn't occurred to him. His eyes went wide, fear momentarily evaporating as he recalled that he was, in fact, the Flame Alchemist. Then he shrunk in on himself again. "But what if I miss and it _comes after me?_" he asked.

She stared at him, before glancing around, but Havoc and Breda seemed to agree with him. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, dropping her bag to the floor. She took a few steps forward, bent down, and deftly scooped the wriggling spider into the cup of her hands. Breda and Havoc made distressed noises and Roy went whiter than before. She strode over to the open window, and, leaning out, gently set the spider on the ledge before stepping back and shutting the window.

"You didn't _kill _it!" Havoc protested.

"It didn't deserve to die," Riza responded dryly, plopping down into her seat. "Can everyone please get on with their work? Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, I believe you have a meeting with General Hakuro at 1300 hours?"

Roy had stepped back onto the ground, and some colour had returned to his face. "Yes, Lieutenant," he said, straightening his uniform and trying to retain some measure of dignity.

Riza rolled her eyes and pulled a sheet of paperwork closer, going at it in the small, neat penmanship she was known for.

--------------------

It was raining, and Roy was acting bitchy and morose, as usual. Riza had grabbed her stack of paperwork and traded desks with him, so that she was sitting directly in front of the window and he was across the room, hunkered over his coffee and wearing an extra jacket, his black hair falling in front of his eyes as he worked harder than usual to avoid listening to the sound of the one thing he hated more than war.

Riza loved rain. If she had it her way, it would rain all of the time. The window was cracked part-way open, despite Roy's vehement protests, so that she could inhale that cold, clean smell of rain. It was her favourite scent, and had been since she was a small child splashing around in the streets of Central in too-large pants stolen from male cousins. A small smile was on her face, and her red eyes had a certain easy-going light to them that she normally lacked. Upon noticing this abnormal behavior, Roy had relented, and thus had produced the extra jacket he was currently wrapped in.

Havoc had called in sick - also a normal occurrence on rainy days, which had long ago established his agreement with Roy that rain was a horrible thing - but Breda and Fuery were in, both of them indifferent to the weather and doing their office work as usual.

Roy leaned back and sighed, the jacket slipping off of him as he morosely stood, coffee cup in hand. "Anyone need a refill?" he asked quietly.

Breda held his mug up immediately. Riza tipped hers over to see it still mostly-full. Coffee just didn't taste right mixed with the smell of rain. "No thank you."

He nodded at her, disappearing. Seconds later, as she had begun to sign papers again, the door burst open to admit a tallish, smiling, bespeckled man. He approached her desk without preamble. "Riza!" he declared warmly, bending down to embrace her. A smile came to her face unbidden, though she returned the hug half-heartedly.

He stepped back, grinning at the opened window. "No wonder Roy wouldn't talk to me in the hallway."

"The Colonel and rain have never gotten along," she agreed.

Hughes propped himself on the edge of the desk. She paused. Something had changed about him. "Major, you look like you're... glowing."

"I am."

She leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

A self-satisfied but deeply happy smile appeared on his face. "I proposed to Gracia last night."

Riza's mouth dropped open. Breda and Fuery were staring at him for a moment, before she let out a loud, happy laugh that set the other two off grinning. It wasn't often Riza showed such emotion, but the engagement of two of her best friends was certainly cause for celebration. "My god, Major! Congratulations!" she said, hugging him tightly.

"Yeah, awesome job, man," Breda agreed, clapping him on the back. Fuery smiled self-consciously and offered his congratulatory remarks, as well. Maes was grinning wolfishly, looking extremely pleased with himself. Then he frowned. "I was hoping to tell Roy. Of course he has to be my best man. But I suppose I picked the wrong day, not that I knew what the weather would be like last night."

Riza shrugged, still smiling, though smaller. "You know Roy."

"True," Maes agreed. "I can always tell him tomorrow."

"We should crack open some champagne," Breda commented. "Or at least some of that brandy the Lieutenant Colonel keeps stashed away in the broom cupboard."

Riza's smiled changed quickly to a frown. "No drinking on the premises, Sergeant."

"Oh, come on Lieutenant," Breda countered, making a move towards the aforementioned cupboard. "It's not everyday that one of our friends gets engaged."

"No, Sergeant. I removed that brandy last week."

Breda's face fell. Maes just shook his head, still glowing. "Anyway, Riza, Gracia mentioned that she wanted you to stop by sometime soon. To talk about _women _things, I suppose. I told her I'd mention it, but I have a feeling she'll rope you into one of those many _group things _she does with all of the other officers' wives, and I know how they drive you crazy."

Riza placed a soft hand on his shoulder, smiling. "I don't mind, Major, and I have to congratulate her anyway. I'll come by tomorrow after work if that's fine with her."

"It should be," he said with a grin. "But alas!" he lamented. "I have paperwork to do and people to boss around. And I have to find Roy and shove a bit of sunlight in his life, since he wants some so badly." He embraced Riza and flashed a grin to the men. "I will undoubtedly drop by tomorrow. Don't breathe a word of this to Roy before I do, though."

"Yes, Major," the others responded, as he strolled out, still glowing and with an obvious hop to his step.

--------------------

The wedding was absolutely beautiful, the finest Roy could remember attending. It was old-fashioned, in a Wedding House Gracia's parents had been wedded in years ago near the edge of Central. She wore an elegant white set off with light pink roses, and her bridesmaids - one of which was Lieutenant Hawkeye - wore similar but less fancy strapless gowns of the same pale rose-colour.

Maes was very handsome in his black tuxedo and black shirt. The only colour came in the form of a cream tie and the pink rose Gracia had fastened to his pocket. Roy was proud to be his best man, wearing a dark grey tuxedo set off by a silver tie. The other bridesmaids hadn't stopped staring at him since his entrance, he had noticed with a smirk.

Riza had really blown him away.

He couldn't remember having seen her dressed up sans Military wear since that ball howeverlongago, and that night she had looked simply amazing. Her hair had been styled so it curled slightly, despite its shortness, and the pink dress brought out the deep red of her eyes and accented how perfectly pale she was. He had asked her to dance (twice) and couldn't take his eyes off, until she politely informed him that he needed to stop staring. He no longer remembered what it was he said, but he did remember that it had made her blush deeply.

He went home with one of those other bridesmaids that night, a blonde girl with brown eyes and small, pink lips that only smiled hesitatingly. She had smelled of rosemary instead of gunpowder, and he left before the night was through.

--------------------

Winter came, as it always does, and with it a sense of peace stole over Headquarters. Riza began to wear a crimson turtleneck under her military wear, but Roy, who never seemed to get cold except when it was raining, strolled around as he always did, asking people jokingly if they needed a fire.

The heating system broke one very cold day in January. Almost immediately the entire building seemed to drop below 15 degrees, and then lower and lower as the thermostat approached 0. Riza, small as she was, was one of the first affected, wrapped in several blankets and shivering, still trying to do paperwork. Her bare hands were shaking so hard, though, her signature looked more like a mess than any legible handwriting, and she sighed in frustration several times before finally succumbing to the cold like everyone else and whipping the pen across the room.

"Why hasn't this been _fixed_ yet?" she asked in what would have been an annoyed voice if her teeth weren't chattering so fiercely.

"I d-dunno," Havoc replied. His hands, also bare, were shaking too badly to be able to light a cigarette, and he was beginning to get a crazy look in his eye from lack of nicotine.

Roy, who, per usual, wasn't nearly as affected as everyone else, was happily showing off to Riza, signing his papers with a flourish she'd never seen and wrapped in only a single, light blanket. He looked up with a grin to find Riza glaring at him.

They stared at each other for several moments, before his smirk dropped and he got up. Walking over to her, he slipped the blanket off and added it to the bundle already around her. He pulled her trash can, filled with old paper, closer to her desk, and, with a snap of his fingers, set it on fire.

Her eyes went very wide. "C-Colonel," she admonished, "that's military property, what if it-"

"It won't melt," he said, grinning. "Give me a little more credit than that, Lieutenant." He promptly did the same to the rest of his subordinates' trash cans, who happily gathered them, except for Riza's, and sat in a circle in the center of the room, basking in the new-found warmth.

That done, Roy pulled his over, set it on fire as well, and grabbed Havoc's chair, sitting next to her after grabbing his own paperwork from the desk. "Let's get this finished, eh?" he asked.

Riza offered a small, tentative smile as she warmed up, and he found himself unable to look away from her, the expression so odd and warm on her face.

Her hands emerged from the blankets, still shaking and cold-looking. He reached out to grab them.

She looked up in surprise, and they stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. He let go momentarily, slowly slipping off his gloves, before taking her hands back and, in turn, putting them on her cold, cold hands. The gloves, much too big for her hands, swallowed them up, and he pulled the burning trash cans between their two desks, holding her hands over them.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Alright." He grinned and turned back to his paperwork, letting go of her hands.

Havoc pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and held it over the fire, grinning delightedly as it finally lit up.

--------------------

In May, as the weather warmed and the sun appeared happy in the sky once more, Gracia and Hughes announced the impending arrival of their child, due sometime in January. Therer was much celebration and happiness, and Riza and Roy pledged whatever help they could give the happy couple.

Work was the same as always: paperwork, alchemical research, the annual alchemy exam Roy always attended and the never-ending relocation of Ishbalan refugees. Fuhrer Bradley appeared in their office one day, accompanied by the same big-buisted, black-haired secretary Riza remembered from Ishbal. He spoke to Roy in hushed tones in a separate room, ostensibly about a new assignment, and Riza continued on with her paperwork, feeling uncomfortably aware of the beautiful secretary's stare the entire time.

Bradley emerged with Roy a short time later. She looked up, and the Fuhrer saw her and smiled gently. "Lieutenant Hawkeye," he acknowledged. "I trust you've been well?"

"Yes, sir, thank you," she replied quietly.

"No more Incidents?"

The capital letter was evident when he spoke it as well. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. "No, sir. I've been perfectly well."

"Good," he said, smiling still. "Keeping these men in line, then?"

"As always," she replied dryly.

"Ah, women. The better half of the species. We need them to tell us what to do," Bradley announced, clapping a hand to his secretary's back. The woman shot him an annoyed look. "Isn't that right, men?"

"Definitely," Falman commented, watching Breda snore across the room. Fuery was merely smiling.

"Well," the Fuhrer said, "I must let you get back to your work, and I must get back to mine."

The stood (except for Breda) and saluted him as he left. Roy hadn't spoken. Riza glanced at him. He looked troubled.

Their eyes met and he yanked his head towards the door. "Coffee, Lieutenant?"

"I think, so, sir," she agreed, standing. They shuffled out of the room, checking to make sure no one was in the hallway, before walking purposefully down the hallway and ducking into the same side clost they always used for coversations like this.

"So?" Riza asked.

"He wants me to find some alchemist who disappeared years ago."

Her forehead creased. "Who?"

"Light Hohenheim," Roy said gravely. He looked uncertain. "What troubles me is how secretive he's being about it. I've never heard of this man before, and the amount of discretion seems ludicrous."

"Do you want me to figure out who he is?"

"If you can," Roy said, nodding. "While I try to find his whereabouts." Roy's mouth twitched. "It would have been easier if the Fuhrer had given me any information on him. All he would say was that Hohenheim is dangerous, and powerful."

They stared at one another for a bit, and then she nodded. "Well, we have some work to do, then, on top of everything else."

"Give some of your paperwork to Breda, and wake him up. Then start the search."

"Yes, sir."

--------------------

Riza had almost no luck, and Roy had even less. All she found were some papers describing a transaction between the Military and Light Hohenheim. What the transcation was, and when it took place, were both missing from the official documents.

More time passed. Summer was in full bloom.

A letter was transferred to their office, addressed to the man who had previously been there, but who had died years ago.

It was a request, from two young boys trying to find their father. Their mother had died.

They were Hohenheim's sons.

--------------------  
A/N: That took me so much longer than I thought it would. Apparently I'm not quite as good at coming up with cute little scenarios as I thought I was. Oh well.

So, sorry I took so long. The next chapter will undoubtedly be huge, and undoubtedly take me forever (for one, I probably should watch the entire series _over _again), as it covers episodes 1-24 or 25. Admittedly, I can cut out stuff where Roy and Riza weren't there, which is good because otherwise it might take me years :-P But yeah. Sorry for the wait.

Reviewing is appreciated

Love,  
CEA


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